


Three Songfic Drabbles

by Mab (Mab_Browne)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Ficlet, Sentinel Thursday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-31
Updated: 2008-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-13 03:39:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15355407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mab_Browne/pseuds/Mab
Summary: Three drabbles written for the songfic challenge at Sentinel Thursday





	Three Songfic Drabbles

**Author's Note:**

> **Author's notes:** I picked some favourite songs by a favourite group - Strawpeople - to base my drabbles on.

**Dreamchild**

'this the feeling I taste in my dreams'

Blue is a celestial colour that means good fortune – 'blue for boys', 'my blue-eyed boy', 'blue sky thinking'; it symbolises thought and serenity. Jim doesn't think, he just feels and his feelings aren't serene. 

In his dream, he was pleased with the shot; his target hit, his prey brought down, until he saw Blair, naked as a new-born on the blue lit jungle floor. Blair was naked, and now Jim feels the same vulnerability, even though his clothes bunch and scrape against his skin. There's a new idea born in an uncertain place in Jim's mind, and it tastes bittersweet.

**Scared of flying**

'eight miles isn't high enough for you'

My hands are shaking as I do up the straps. Jim is looking at me with an expression I've seen before, on him and other people. It says, 'I'm not completely convinced that you're up to this.' I've seen it on my mother's face, on teachers' faces, and yeah, I've seen it on Jim's face. What? Only big and buff ex-army rangers get to do the stupid stuff? I don't think so. Besides, I don't think that being prepared to jump out of a plane is half as stupid, as the reason _why_ I'm jumping. Following right behind him.

**Beautiful Skin**

'in a falling dream would you wake me up?'

Blair is in that tiny box, dying in terminal velocity and flame. They're all screaming, and it's all I can hear, until a cool voice drowns the flame and the noise. "Hey, hey, buddy. Wake up, it's just a dream." My hand flails and bounces once on the mattress before it's caught up by a warm, beautifully alive hand. Gradually, in peaceful dark, my heartbeat calms.

"You could see the PD counsellor."

"I'll be fine."

"Sure, diehard, go it alone." He's gently exasperated. But he still has my hand so I guess that I'm not going it alone after all.


End file.
